


Your Hands are Cold

by Carmenlire



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Domestic Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Established Relationship, Happy Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, M/M, Movie Night, POV Magnus Bane, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 07:56:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16091336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carmenlire/pseuds/Carmenlire
Summary: Magnus brings their intertwined hands up to his mouth, brushes the gentlest of kisses on the pad of a thumb, nibbles at a surprisingly delicate wrist.Spending far more time than is probably wise or practical, Magnus has reflected that his hands might just be his favorite part of Alec. They're soldier's hands, merciless and skilled, yet they’re also the gentlest things that have ever touched Magnus with a reverence he still can’t quite understand.Or, Magnus loves Alec's hands.





	Your Hands are Cold

**Author's Note:**

> an earlier post of mine from this evening: okay the 2005 pride and prejudice “your hands are cold” scene bUT MALEC

Alec hands are warrior’s hands. Lean, flexible, sturdy. They’ve wide palms and long fingers that can hold a seraph blade or bow with equal ease.

They’re dotted with marks-- scars and scrapes. The knuckles are often bruised. They are soldier’s hands, blunt nails left unpainted.

They’re soldier’s hands, the most steadfast weapon.

Magnus brings their intertwined hands up to his mouth, brushes the gentlest of kisses on the pad of a thumb, nibbles at a surprisingly delicate wrist.

Alec is beautiful. He’s stunning in the heat of battle and adorably grumpy in the mornings.

Spending far more time than is probably wise or practical, Magnus has reflected that his hands might just be his favorite part of Alec.

They can kill without thought, enjoy pain to a startling degree.

But they’re also the gentlest things that have ever touched Magnus with a reverence he still can’t quite understand.

Alec’s hands show the fascinating duality of the man Magnus gave his heart to so long ago. They are riddled with scars and to most everyone else they’re fearsome things, hands that show no mercy, grant no quarter. They’re as unforgiving as the man himself.

Yet.

Those hands have calmed Magnus down during nights when the nightmares refused to settle. They’ve ignited a heat in him that he’d never felt before. They sweep over his cheek, down his side, accompanied by earnest declarations and dizzying intimacy.

Magnus loves Alec’s hands. They represent home and Alec, the two of which are so wrapped around each other as to be synonymous.

It’s Tuesday movie night and they’re watching some biopic about a queen who lived even before Magnus. Alec’s enthralled, on the edge of his seat, eyes glued to the television.

It’s endearing how much of a nerd his boy can be sometimes.

For his part, Magnus has been staring at Alec for at least the past twenty minutes. He read a biography about that particular dynasty a few months ago and there’s no contest between a stuffy monarch when Alec is right beside him.

It’s not often that Magnus has these pockets of time to observe his boyfriend. They are constantly on the go and Magnus prefers to live in these moments, focused on enjoying them instead of cataloging.

He takes this time, now, though. 

He’s doing a terrible job of even pretending to be watching the movie. He still has Alec’s hand raised to his mouth and he’s playing with his fingers as he peppers kisses over knuckles, his palm.

Seeing Alec’s growing smile-- though he refuses to look away from the program-- Magnus drops their hands into his lap, leaning forward and kissing Alec’s shoulder. He noses along Alec’s shirt before looking up through his lashes to see that Alec’s finally been distracted enough to switch his focus.

Alec looks at him, those beautiful hazel eyes absolutely glowing with warmth. “You’re missing the movie,” he says.

Grinning, Magnus just replies, “It’s not my fault that I've found something infinitely more interesting to watch.”

Mouth tilting up, Alec reaches for Magnus’s hand. Holding it like a gentleman in a move that does _not_ make Magnus swoon, Alec brings it up to his mouth and kisses the back of it with a lingering touch.

His lashes sweep low as he murmurs, “Your hands are cold.”

The loft itself feels like it takes a deep inhale, silent but warm with the weight of this profound intimacy that Magnus has found. Magnus smiles even as his heart stutters. Alec’s voice had been warm and soft as he delivered the line with a coy smile. Magnus exhales on a slow sigh before releasing the hand he’d been holding, bringing it up to cup Alec’s cheek, graze a thumb along Alec’s jaw.

“Then how lucky I am to have found someone to warm me up,” he says, voice just above a whisper.

Alec looks up, meets eyes devoid of glamour. “Always,” he replies on a breath.

His tongue darts out to lick his lips and then he’s leaning forward at a glacial pace. Magnus feels anticipation like a living thing. They both feel the pull between them, a force that could move mountains and part seas. It never gets old.

Their lips finally touch on a kiss that’s comfort and desire all rolled into one. It’s gentle with the slow simmer that’s always between them, content for now but always ready for more.

Pulling back a few minutes later, Magnus doesn’t immediately open his eyes. He wants to catalog everything that he’s feeling. The weight and depth of Alec’s devotion, the warmth of the fire crackling in the hearth, the way his chest feels like melting gold.

It’s such a mundane moment, one among a million they’ve shared, but it’s quietly devastating all the same. Distantly, Magnus hopes that this is just the beginning.

It’s always the beginning. He’ll always ache for more.

He smiles as Alec places butterfly soft kisses on his cheek, nose, over still-closed eyes. That smile grows to a grin when he noses along his cheek, affectionate and so syrupy sweet.

Magnus opens his eyes to see the fire casting shadows over Alec’s face. He looks at once forbidding and inviting. Magnus has given himself to Alec but Alec’s his, too, and his breath stops as Magnus sees his beautiful Alexander at his best-- in a ragged hoodie in their loft, close enough to touch.

Magnus grins as his gaze roves over Alec. “Don’t think that I don’t know where that line was from, darling. You’re the one who runs cold, you know.”

Alec shrugs, unrepentant. “I couldn’t resist. You know that it’s my favorite movie.”

Humming, Magnus makes a show of studying him. “Yes, I can definitely see how you’d be a Darcy type of man.”

“Ten thousand a year, don’t you know. I’m used to a certain standard of living, after all.”

Magnus sighs dramatically. “Who am I to stand against such competition,” he says, forlorn.

Alec throws an arm over his shoulder, pulls until there’s not an inch of space between them. “You’re Magnus Lightwood-Bane, love of my life, husband of eight years. I think you look pretty good compared to Darcy.”

“Just ‘pretty good,’” Magnus asks, teasing.

“Perfect,” Alec whispers.

Ah, hell. Magnus’s expressions softens as he leans in, kisses Alec again. 

They spend the rest of the evening indulging in lazy kissing jags, the movie completely forgotten. They stumble to bed long after the end credits roll, climbing under covers and moving until they’re wrapped around each other.

Alec’s hand is a familiar weight against him and Magnus smiles, curls into it a little more before falling asleep to Alec’s adorable snoring.

**Author's Note:**

> Catch me on tumblr @carmenlire :)


End file.
